


Sickness of the Mind - Helpful Hands

by AllThatNoise



Series: Sickness of the Mind [3]
Category: Left 4 Dead 2, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:56:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9063232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllThatNoise/pseuds/AllThatNoise
Summary: Back to Nick's P.O.V meeting John's family.





	

I slowly open my eyes as a soft silhouette hovers overhead, lightly patting the sweat from my brow. I can remember moaning loudly as I swipe at the gentle hand. My jacket rolls onto the floor while I jerk myself up in a start. My eyes haven’t adjusted to the surrounding lights and my skull was throbbing. But I still force myself to my feet, trying to get away from whoever that person is. Before I could get a few feet away from them I collapse to the ground right on my injured arm. The pain knocked the wind out of me as I clutch my arm, my eyes squeezing shut so hard that I feared that they’ll pop out the back of my head. 

The woman, I think it was a woman. She sounded like a woman when she lets out a worried gasp. I think she called for some help from the other room and a man comes in to put me back on the couch. My eyes refuse to open but I could hear the pair talking over me but their voices were fading to mumbles then to silence.

I reopen my eyes to see a pretty woman with short blonde hair form into view before me; she looked older than me as well, with a well-mannered atmosphere around her. Her kind face took me by surprise; she was just sitting across from me like she was just watching me while I slept. That would be creepy but it seems endearing to me, the small batch of butterflies fluttering in my stomach weren’t helping either. I turn to my arm and notice it wrapped in new bandages. I stretch my good arm and use it to rub the dull aches on my temple; I have to say something, anything to her. 

“Ugh, how did I get here?” That could have turned out better. 

“You passed out after saving my husband’s life for the third time.” Something about that sentence pinged my heart; I cover my face with my hand so the other woman wouldn’t see any hint of a blush on my cheeks. I almost hoped that my skin was dark enough that she couldn’t tell but she leans closer to me with a worried look in her eyes. I quickly fall back onto the couch with a groan. “Oh dear, are you alright?” 

The first crush I get in a very long time and she’s married. “How embarrassing.” 

“What do you mean? What's embarrassing?” 

Shit, I actually said that aloud! I have to think of something quick before I say something else stupid. “I-I passed out; I wanted to look cool like some hardcore survivalist.” 

The woman quietly giggles, “You’re worried about your bravado after you’ve just reopened a nasty wound? You are a strange girl.” 

I shyly smile at the woman before she sits back into her chair. “So John’s your husband?” 

“Yes.” 

“He said I was crazy.” 

“You can say that in some way we think alike.” I look to my hands and fumble with an invisible Rubix cube, not daring to look at her. 

“Wow, just made it to shore and people already think I'm crazy. Wasn't exactly the first impression I was going for.” 

“Well I wouldn’t say that’s the only impression.” 

“Oh? Then what else would you label me?” 

“Alive.” 

I turn to the woman and graced her with a warm smile. “The name’s Nick, what’s yours?”

“Mary, Mary Watson.”

I then decided to tell Mary my unusual tale of how I ended up in England. Again leaving out the talking to the infected parts out. She never interrupted me, just sat there beside me as I recount each moment.

A quiet knock sounds from the across the living room, interrupting me and Mary’s conversation. John’s voice creeps through the slowly opening door. “Is she feeling better?” 

Mary turns to her husband with a beaming smile on her face. “Alive and well. She’s told me quite a tale.” 

John sighs in relief and moves closer to us, idly placing a hand on Mary’s shoulder. I mentally cringe at the sincere gesture but force the feeling to the back of my mind. “So how far were we to the safe zone, before I passed out?” 

“Just two blocks away. So how did you get that nasty cut?” 

“Remember the cannibal cruise captain I told you about? He loved swinging butcher knives.” 

“Cannibal cruise captain?” A baritone voice arises from another room. I turn toward the voice to see a tall man with a mesh of dark curly hair slip through a door. It looked like it was a bedroom, probably his. He peered down at me for a few seconds before focusing his attention to John and Mary. I lean down from the couch to pick up my fallen jacket and mutter aloud to myself. 

“Certainly, a cannibal cruise captain with creepy conduct was capable of cutting and almost consuming my character. Hehe.” I stupidly laugh at my weird word play but no one graced me with a response. “What? No one can enjoy some alliteration.” The taller man just stares at me as if trying to figure me out before finally responding. 

“Alliteration is the use of words that begin with the same sound near one another. Its basic English poetry, I’m amazed that you would know that even now of all times. Next time instead of ‘creepy’ you should have used ‘contemptuous’ or ‘chilling’. It would have made more sense.” One of my eyes twitched in shock of what the man said. Did he just inadvertently insult me or am I just overthinking things from lack of sleep? I’m not sure anymore but I still think he’s an asshole. Before I could say anything I suddenly felt an uncontrollable urge to cough, accidentally making Mary jump. 

Mary then excuses herself to the kitchen to make some tea for me while John must have seen me tense up. He was quick to change the subject. “Well Nick, this is Sherlock Holmes. He’s a good friend of mine.” 

“Best friend, I believe that is my new title after your wedding.” Sherlock interrupts while he plops himself on to a lone armchair near the fireplace. John calmly sighs and sits down next to me and continues. 

“Yeah, and Sherlock, this is Nick. She has saved my life, three times today.” 

“Nick? Clearly that’s not her name. Obviously short for Nicole. I don’t see the point in calling her that nickname.” John elbows the taller man’s side, clearly trying to stop him from changing the topic. 

“Did you have to hit me so hard?” 

“Yes, this young woman has saved my life three times today. Don’t you want to know how she did it?” 

The clearly disinterested Sherlock guy mockingly asks, “Oh but let me guess. She’s an American tourist backpacking across the country and just so happened to save your life? Or was she trying to rob you until an infected attacked? I must know what happened.” John lightly massages his temples, clearly annoyed with his friend but his patience persevered as he recaps his passed few hours with me. Mary enters the room with a coffee mug of hot tea just when John reached the witch part. 

As I blow steam away from the mug before taking a sip, I notice Sherlock sitting at the edge of his armchair with new found interest…to me. I tried to make the event sound smaller than it should have been, I can’t have the first few survivors I’ve met since I’ve made it to England think I’m bonkers. So I shakily pull myself to my feet with my uninjured arm. John is startled and jumps to his feet grasping on my shoulder to help me keep steady. “What are you doing, Nick?” 

My eyes skip around the room until I see a bathroom door ajar. “B-bathroom, do you have running water? I-it’s been a while since taken a shower and I want…no need to feel clean.”


End file.
